


Persona (non) grata

by Oienel



Category: Korean Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Police, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 07:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oienel/pseuds/Oienel
Summary: In which Haein tries to find out what is the deal with you and your family - criminals&police!au





	Persona (non) grata

You’ve learnt not to talk about certain things at a pretty young age. You didn’t understand that back then. Children don’t understand why they are not allowed to say some things. They take the censorship at the face value – it’s just another thing that parents impose on you, like wearing pants and washing your teeth. Another stupid rule to make your life a little more boring. To make you more like them.

But then you’ve learnt that you are one of those few whose censorship is stronger than the rest.

Take the simple question: what your parents do? It’s an easy question, that is being asked a lot at a certain age. It’s greeted with smiles and proud answers, and follow-up questions whether you want to be like your mom, your dad, your whoever.

Your answer was usually greeted with small _oh_ and awkward stares. If you were lucky.

If you weren’t, it resulted with parents forbidding their kids to play with you.

That’s what you get when your parents are criminals.

They weren’t bad parents. You were fed, and loved, and clothed, and scolded, and raised – but the money supporting the family came from various sources, none of them totally white, totally _legal_.

Up till the end of the primary school you even had a permanent place of residence, your parents, though shady, part of the community.

Until _the big job_ came around, and with it big money, and pretty nice wanted poster, which your parents still keep as a weird family photo. They were proud.

They were loaded and proud, and you were loaded and lonely. Except for constant police surveillance. As if you parents were stupid enough to appear in front of you. They left you with squeaky clean laundered money, and arrays of house ladies to cook, to clean, maybe even to raise you.

But you didn’t go around answering questions like: who are your parents? Why they never come to see you?

*

You met him for the first time in front of the building of your high school. Half of the kids came with their proud parents, and you passed them indifferently. Even if one day you felt a pang at that, it wasn’t there anymore. And your mom called you in the morning to wish you good luck on the secured line.

You weren’t dysfunctional family – just – different.

And there the boy was, all smiley and happy, kind of embarrassed to be driven to school by the parents, waving them away. His father patted him on the back, mother kissed his cheek – looking smart and professional in her fitted suit. She sported high ponytail, that made you kind of want to replicate that.

Your eyes locked with boy’s father as you were passing them, and you bowed politely, and he narrowed his eyes at you, while mother squeezed her son’s shoulder. The boy himself spotted the sudden interest of his parents behind him, and he turned around to look at you.

You winked at him, earning yourself an uncomfortable cough from the cop that used to be part of your surveillance team, and detective that is probably still on the force trying to catch your parents (as soon as they are back from the non-extradition country that are currently at).

*

The boy takes to eyeing you. In the beginning you only met on corridors, since you were in a different classes, but every time you saw him, he was looking at you with a curiosity chiseled into his futures – soon enough everyone believed he had a crush on you.

But you knew better.

Either he didn’t know why would you greet his parents, and he was dying to find out, or he knew and he saw you like this curious specimen, the abandoned child of thieves.

This changed in the second year, because you ended up in the same classroom. It took him three days, before he was sliding on the chair in front of you during a break, chin resting on the backrest. He looked at you until you looked up.

“Yeah?” You asked, trying to sound as withdrawn as possible. He narrowed his eyes at you, but then he smiled, relaxing his face.

“So… What’s the deal with you?”

*

You didn’t answer back then, and you didn’t answer hundred questions that came after the first one. And he kept trying. He kept pestering you day after day, week after week, month after month, apparently deaf to all the kids’ teases about his helpless crush.

And boy, was he persistent.

You told your mom about him, and she laughed and laughed, and then called your father to say how hilarious it would be if their son-in-law was son of the cops.

You didn’t join in with the laughter.

*

He stopped pestering you in the third year. After vacations he came back taller, way taller than you remembered him, and his face lost most of his childish appeal – making way for sharp angles and pronounced bones.

His eyelashes were always dark and nice, but suddenly they started catching your interest.

But he no longer came to slide on the seat in front of you, or next to you, whichever was empty to ask you who you were. Now he was sitting down at his own desk, with open book, studying as hard as he could. It wasn’t weird – he wasn’t the only one to do that, you were seniors after all.

You didn’t make much out of it – you weren’t that keen on studying, that’s the only thing your parents couldn’t force you to do. They were making more money stealing than 90% of university graduates.

So while your classmates were studying you found a new group to hang out with. With fake id in your hand you were learning the hedonistic ways of life. Clubs, karaoke bars, even your own house. All was the place for debauchery.

But you quietly attended your classes, more to make sure that they didn’t have a reason to call for your parents (because it would be a hell to pay for you if they did) than to receive the education. You had to suffer through countless consultations about your future, what you should study, where you should study. It took one outburst of _my parents are criminals, no need for me to study_ for your teachers to never take you on one of those again.

Somewhere in the middle of the year you overheard your room teacher talking to your math teacher about how curious the life is. To have in one class the kids of both cops and criminals, with both of them wanting to follow in their parent’s footsteps.

That’s how you learnt that Haein was studying to become a cop.

*

His parents came to the graduation. Yours didn’t. You greeted them just like you did back on the first day of high school, and Haein looked at you, old curiosity sparked anew. His parents were as taken aback as they were those three years before, but even you couldn’t spoil their day.

After taking pictures with parents and friends he ran after you. He asked for a photo, and it was a first time he asked you something different than _what’s your deal_ , so you said yes. You smiled and raised victory sign to your face as you looked into his camera.

He smiled brightly, head tipped to your side, took picture and thanked you afterwards.

*

You saw him again two years later, while out in the club. The night wasn’t any different from those countless before. You didn’t know why he happened to be in this club, but at the same you didn’t know why you were in this particular club either. It seems like things like that just happen.

You saw him, or rather he saw you, when you pushed in next to him at the bar, laughing with a random guy you met a moment before.

You waved the bartender and turned to the guy, when you heard your name spoken with a note of doubt. You turned around to face the caller, Haein, whose face lit up when he saw you.

You did the _talk_. How are you, how is life, what have you been doing? Your answers were short and brisk, but it didn’t put him off. It seemed like he genuinely wanted to know how you were.

You learned that police academy was coming along quite well.

Your dancing partner for the night ordered shots, and forced one into your hand. You took it as a rescue it was. You downed it, and threw a short _see you around_ , and drugged the guy back to the dance floor.

*

Next time you saw him it was a rather awkward meeting.

Your car was hit by another car, while Haein was out on his patrol, and he happened to see it – so he forced the driver to wait for the owner of damaged car (you), since it seemed to be really luxurious. Because it was.

Nearly five years passed since you graduated high school, but neither of you changed. His face lit up when he saw you, and the sheer wonder at your car made you uncomfortable. Maybe it wasn’t best money could buy, but it was pretty close.

It’s been really long since your parents’ money started making money. At the same time _your_ money, were making money as well, all in legal investments. You were managing the legal part of your parents’ empire – not being allowed to touch anything that wasn’t perfectly legal or squeaky clean.

You settled with the other driver quickly, and he drove away as soon as he can, leaving you with Haein. He looked like a model citizen in his uniform, reminding you of boy scout. He eyed your car long enough for you to grow uncomfortable.

“I know it’s been years…” He said suddenly, turning to you while you drank vending machine coffee on the street, leaning against street railing. “But seriously, what’s the deal with you?”

 You shrugged, not answering, and you downed your coffee, ready to hit the road.

*

You father slipped. It was bound to happen, sooner or later, and you were surprised it lasted so long. Most of the empire came tumbling down, your mother fleeing on her own, but you didn’t worry. Not much anyway. Your mother would be fine, settling in a new place, forming her new kingdom, your investments were safe, and your father… At least you knew that for the first time in years you’d be able to see him anytime you wanted.

In prison, after a fair trial. Obviously. He joked that it was his retirement.

But he could still be acquitted. Things like that did happen too.

But you got called in for questioning. It was something you couldn’t just skip and even if you considered it unnecessary hassle, and you still had to go.

You were prepped half of your life for this to happen, so you didn’t flinch when they led you to interrogation room. You sat at the table on the uncomfortable chair, not having to try to look bored. You were bored.

And you knew that they were trying to shake you up by leaving you alone for prolonged period of time – probably looking at you though the mirror.

When the door finally opened and detective came in, you were in for a surprise. Or maybe you expected that?

Haein looked a little shaken, and though his face did not lit up, his eyes looked as if they did. He sat down in front of you, his eyes snapping to the mirror, and it made you wonder whether his mother was behind the glass. After all her team was the one to catch your father in the end.

Which made you wonder where in the force was Haein’s father right now.

“Congrats on your promotion.” You said, and he looked up surprised, and he smiled a little, before he schooled himself realizing he shouldn’t have done that.

“Well, thank you. I would like to ask some questions, if you wouldn’t mind?” He said, trying to be serious, and you smiled.

“Ask away, but you do know, since, well, we’ve known each other for quite a long time, that while I don’t mind you asking, I am not about to answer anything.” Haein snickered a little, his eyes jumping to the mirror, as if checking if people behind it saw him lose control.

After that he was all professional. Asking questions, one by one, and you refused to answer every single one of them. It was a dreary and dull process, but finally you were done.

“Well, at least _now_ , I know what was the deal with you.” He said as he walked you out. You said nothing, but at the main entrance you stopped, and asked the very first question of your own.

“Was my family a frequent guest in your family’s dinner discussions?” Haein smiled apologetically.

“Yeah.”

*

Courtroom is filled to the brim. Reporters, reporters and reporters, with miscellaneous crowd thrown in the mix, they are all here to see your father, and usually – to see the justice be served. 

Your father looks old. Older. And tired. Way more tired than when you saw him for the last time. Was it junior high? High school? You don’t remember really. You exchanged photos, and they did contact you on a weekly basis, but to see him in real life – that was first in ages.

And people gawked at you as well. _The daughter of the criminal. Filthy rich daughter of the criminal, still walking free, but probably she’s next in line. How bold of her to come here. How bold of her to be in this sacred place, where the justice will be served._

You’d like to say that it bothered you. That you feel the modicum of shame. The truth is – you don’t. You are not ashamed of your father. You are not ashamed of being in the courtroom.

To see the justice be done.

Although you are not sure that it will be done.

Police with prosecutors froze your father’s assets. But they didn’t froze neither yours nor your mothers (and it’s not like they found all of your father’s accounts anyway). So your family, in the world where money is power, wasn’t powerless.

Of course he had the best lawyer. Not in town, no. Your mother flew him into the country, to ensure that your father would be back with her in less than a year.

And you came to see if it was possible.

You notice Haein sitting in the first row, probably to serve as a witness.

Sure enough somewhere in the middle of the pre-trial, he is called to the witness stand, and your father sends you a surprised glance. You shrug, even though you are surprised that he remembered about the boy that used to pester you in high school.

*

Haein catches up with you after the trial. You don’t greet him, but you allow him to fall in step with you.

“You saw your father.” He says, hands in his pockets.

He looks nice in the formal uniform. Better. Taller. More responsible. You still remember him in the fluorescent traffic vest.

“I did.” You answer, moving your bag to your other arm. You have no idea why, but you didn’t like it being between the two of you.

As if he could steal something from you.

“You’ll be able to see him more often now, I guess.” If it wasn’t Haein, smiley, clueless Haein, you’d consider the sentence offending. You’d stop, and you’d put on your sassy attitude to put down the person trying to undercut you.

“I will enjoy it, while it lasts.” You say, because that is what you plan to do. His hand suddenly grabs your arm and he jerks you to stop.

“What does it mean?” He asks. You are taken aback, and you brush away his hand, and he seems embarrassed when his hand drops to his side.

“It means that you are not going to put him away, Haein.”

*

You stop going to see your father trial after the third day. It’s a sad play really.

They try, oh boy, do they try. Evidence after evidence, expert after expert, witness after witness, and the lawyer throws them out one after another. It’s methodical, meticulous, and really, sad to watch. The frustration in the court is palpable, judge pleading the prosecutor to bring something undefeatable. Reporters ceasing stopping with their stories, because of the unsatisfying plotline.

It’s never fun when the _bad guys_ win.

Money. There is nothing more powerful than money.

You are being cynical, but it’s hard not to in the world that you found yourself in.

*

Haein comes to you. It’s surprising, really. You don’t remember if he ever reached out to you on his own. He usually came to you when you were in the vicinity anyway.

But you don’t show how surprised you feel, when you assistant leads him into your office. Office which looks like CEO’s office.

Because that’s who you are.

“Haein.” You greet him, as you never did, and his eyes snap to you, and he nods. He looks like detective, but it shouldn’t be surprising – he is one.

You sit in the armchair, and he sits on the couch. He says yes to proposed coffee, and you sit in silence waiting for your assistant. He looks out of the window in the meantime, clearly impressed with the view.

You look at Haein.

He is fidgety. Not like him. He doesn’t want to be here. Or he doesn’t want to say what he is about to.

Coffee comes, and he finally looks at you.

“Did your mother send you?” You ask before he gathers himself enough to speak. He blinks and takes a sip of your coffee. Your own blend.

You take the cup in your hand, but you don’t drink. You warm your hands.

“Yeah.” He says, when he realizes that you are not going to let him avoid the topic.

“To talk me into testifying against my father?” You pose it as a question, but it is a statement.

“Yes.” He answers after a moment of silence. His voice is quiet, when he does it.

You exhale, you put the cup down on the saucer  and you stand up, Haein looking after you as you walk through your office.

“Does she know that we are in no relationship, that would justify this kind of plea?” You ask, rhetorically, and you stop at the doors, opening them for him.

He looks taken aback and shaken, and you don’t understand that. What did he expect after coming to ask to snitch on your father. He gathers himself and stands up.

“I think she realizes that I’m open to the idea.”He says, as he walks to you.”Maybe it’s her way of punishing me for that.”

He walks out, and turns on his heel.

“Goodbye, Haein.” You say flatly, closing the doors, not addressing the confession you just received.

*

Come to think of it, it’s not surprising. Not surprising at all. You should have expected it sooner. Maybe even back in high school.

Maybe he had a crush on you back then, and he tried to get over it after you graduated – but you were constantly appearing in his life. For a moment, with long periods of not existing in his life, but often enough to throw him of his track.

Or maybe that was his trick to somehow force you into testifying against your father.

Which would be really futile.

It isn’t only about you two being family, and you being loyal – you actually know nothing about the crime he committed. It happened years ago, before you went to junior high, and the statue of limitations is only few years from now. You know nothing.

But it’s still inappropriate for him to even consider asking.

*

To national outrage, your father goes free. For the first time in years, he can freely walk on the land that belongs to your country.

At least until they find some new evidence. Or he commits another crime and gets caught. Which is unlikely at this point.

In his own words, which he utters to you before flying back to reunite with your mother, he won’t do anything that would jeopardize him walking you down the aisle during your wedding.

Which would be lovely, if he didn’t ask about Haein back there.

You don’t know. You saw him briefly during the last day of the trial, looking pale while sitting next to his fuming mother.

He still looked dashingly handsome.

*

It’s weird how easy it is to fall back and live your life the way one used to.

Except is not.

Haein’s confession wasn’t explicit or romantic in any way, but it is all that occupies your mind, when you go out clubbing, when you go out on dates, when you work, when you shop, when you rest.

It’s there. Constant maddening reminder of… What exactly?

 _A person that sees you in you, despite coming from_ different _family._

Or so you explain to yourself.

But you don’t seek him out. You are in no position to do so, and your pride wouldn’t allow you to do so. And now, with nearly two decades of you living on your own, having a company is not high on your list of priorities. It seems more like a choir.

Your parents take on asking about Haein with every call. They are still using the secure line, your father got away with _not_ -murder, but no one is about to push your luck to check whether your mother could repeat the trick.

It’s like high school all over again, with your parents being as persistent as Haein once was.

*

Another criminal was caught. Embezzling money, bribes, black market. One arrest shook the world of others like him.

He is a businessman. Owner of his own company.

Company that you used to deal with – sometimes.

The moment you see the news, you call your legal department to leave some special instructions – because search and seize warrant is a possibility.

But you are a gambler, and you are quite sure, it’s not going to happen.

Haein comes. With few police officers and another detective. Your assistant leads them in, except for the officers – no reason for you to entertain the pawns. You are drinking coffee when they enter, already sitting in the armchair, and you refuse to stand up to greet them.

Not when they arrive hostile.

“I’m willing to cooperate.” You say, putting the cup on the saucer. Haein and the other detective exchange glances. The stranger looks wary, but Haein, smiley, clueless Haein doesn’t.

He smiles, and comes to sit down on the couch, asking if he could get a cup of the amazing coffee he had here last time. The stranger approaches slowly, as if not understanding what was happening.

You call for your assistant and you decide for the other detective and you get two coffees for them.

This time you exchange empty pleasantries with them, while waiting for their coffees.

You allow them to take a sip of the beverage, before you speak up.

“How can I help you?”

The other detective sputters, and he immediately puts his coffee down, while Haein seems to enjoy it.

“Ma’am…” Starts the stranger, but you don’t really want to listen to _him_.

“Before you say anything, I want you to understand, that, by default, I am quite distrustful of the police force. Which I hope is not surprising.” You say, Haein seems thoughtful as he analyses your words. The other one seems just taken aback.

But before he says anything, Haein turns to him slowly, and subtly shows him the doors.

Even if the detective feels insulted, he doesn’t show that.

“So…” Prompts Haein, after the doors behind the spare one closes.

“I prepared all the documentation regarding my company’s dealings with the defendant.” You say, fixing yourself in the armchair, your body turning more to Haein.

He blinks, once, twice, and then smiles.

“How about preparing the documentation regarding your dealing with feelings for me?”

You blink, once, twice, and then you laugh.

*

You kissed him right there, back then. The thing itself wasn’t new. You kissed _and fucked_ fair share of men in your life, and the basics felt pretty similar.

But having Haein be the one to stare at you, when you pulled away, forehead against forehead – that was new and exciting.

Soon enough information is out that you and your company is clear, nothing illegal in your documents. You know that, and you knew that before – because you stayed clear of anything illegal in your life.

Except for your parents and their money.

But what was yours in paper? It was legal.

*

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Whispers Haein, and you ignore him, like you used to do so many times back in high school.

However, for the first time in your life, you probably should acknowledge him. But with all your respect (or lack of thereof ) to armed forces there are things that you always wanted to do.

And detective boyfriend is your… Permit.

“Really not a good idea.” He whispers, looking around his shoulder.

“The more you talk the longer it takes.” You whisper back sternly, and he turns back to stare at you, and you stare back at him. It last long enough for him to deflate a little, obviously realizing that you are not going to change your mind.

But when he rolls his eyes you can see the shadow of a smile on his lips.

“Ok, let’s get on with it.”

As if he’d really be able to say no to you sucking him off in a cell.

*

“Are you into roleplay?”

That is not an appropriate question to be asked in your office, so you look up from your computer screen. You are sitting at your desk, and Haein is sprawled on one of your couches with cup of coffee in front of him. His notebook and pen are laying on the coffee table, and there is also an open file, but you refuse to look at it.

Haein’s head is resting on the backrest, and he looks at you quite thoughtful. You don’t answer, trying to show him that it’s not a question to ask in your office.

His head rolls back, and he looks at the ceiling.

“I guess you are.” He mumbles, and you raise your eyebrows. You say nothing focusing back on your work. “You did get me off in the cell.”

“That doesn’t mean that I’m into roleplay though.” You say dismissively.

“Yeah.” He agrees. In the silence that follows you manage to write an email, and you nearly forget about the topic, when he follows: “that would be awesome, though.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Yeah.” He says, and his eyes are sparkling, a smile tugging at his lips. “Cause I thought about officially introducing you to my parents, and that would require us playing role of upstanding citizens.”

Through the mirage of emotions, the most baffling one is your appreciation of him using the pronoun “us.

*

“Are your parents flying in?” It turns out Haein likes to ask you questions when you are in no mood to answer them. It was true years ago, and it’s true now.

You turn the page in your book.

“Well, my father is flying in.” You answer. Which should be obvious – it’s not like you are going to walk yourself down the aisle. Haein, smiley, not so clueless anymore, Haein, grabs your hand and kisses the engagement ring. You know that his way to show that he understood what you tried to imply.

“Is your mother flying in?”

Your mother is flying in. She would never skip your wedding, that’s for sure. But the thing is, with half of Haein’s department, and half of yours city police invited, it’s not like she is going to be sitting at one of the tables at the reception.

But you’ve worked it out. Your family has means to do weird shit.

“Nooo…” You say, and you actually look up from your book. Haein laughs at you.

“Oh my god, you used to be a better liar.” You close the book on your thumb, and you hit him with it.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you _that_!” You say indignantly.

“C’mon, that’s unfair!” He says, but to be sure he grabs the book out of your hand and puts it away. You are not happy with that, since you don’t know the page, but then he is hugging you, and bring you close, and you hit his arm, annoyed. “I want your mother to be there! She is going to be my mother-in-law!”

“I am pretty sure that your mother wants her at our wedding just as much.”

Haein doesn’t have to consider that even for a moment.

You both know that _is_ one hundred percent true.

*

“One, two, three, and… smile!” You smile, but as soon as the photo is taken, you look to the side annoyed. Your father shrugs apologetically.

You had no idea that your family is so big!

And that half of them are criminals just like your parents (which horrified Haein informed you about, as soon as they started gathering). It is going to be one hell of a wedding, really. One half of the wedding hall filled with cops, the other with not-so-upstanding-citizens.

Haein’s head appears in the doors, and he pauses for a second when he sees you. He saw you in the wedding dress few times already, but the pure admiration does wonders on your ego.

He came to tell, that it’s about to start.

Well, sure as hell it won’t start without you, but you nod, feeling the adrenaline strike. Haein doesn’t go immediately, opting to stay a second longer, biting his lip, and you smile at him, brightly, feeling how happiness bubbles in your gut, and you wave him away.

In like half an hour he is going to be yours.

Your father offers you his arm, and you look at him in need of reassurance.

He pats your hand on his arm, and together you leave the room you’ve been confined in for the last few hours, and you walk together down the empty corridor. You need to stop yourself from fidgeting on your heels, but it’s really exciting and nerve-wracking to be standing in front of the double winged doors, knowing that there is Haein waiting for you at the end of the aisle on the other side.

The moment you the doors open, you realize that you were right about having one hell of a wedding.

Your mother decided to just show up. Wanted criminal sitting at the close family places, just next to the aisle, across from Haein’s mother. The top detective trying to catch _your mother_.

But the music is playing, and you go down the aisle, with your father at your side, and Haein looking at you with eyes bright, and broad smile, and that’s all you wanted to see.

Although you can still see your mother waving smugly to Haein’s mother and you realize that it’s not going to be good.

*

Hell breaks loose after the vows. The moment the rings are on, and Haein and you (now husband and wife) kiss, Haein’s parents stand up – probably to clap, but that alarms your mother and she bolts upright and runs out of the building.

Immediately half of the Haein’s part of the wedding hall jumps to their feet to go after her, to what your own family reacts by standing up to stop them.

In seconds you and Haein are left alone in the wedding hall. He is still holding you, and your hands are still on his nape as you look at all the empty space. You can hear people shouting outside, and you can here running and cars, and police sirens, and that is just ridiculous.

You turn your head to look at Haein, and he was just waiting for that.

He kisses you, slow and deep, tongue sliding along your teeth, lips pressing hard against yours.

“It’s been years since I asked that, but seeing what happened here…” He says when you finally part, and you realize that you no longer care what happened with your family (and Haein’s). From this point onwards, you two are _the family_. “What is the _deal_ with you _and_ your family?”


End file.
